Written in the Stars
by AliceEnchanted
Summary: She's trying to lead a new life after the Second Wizard War. He wishes he was never given the second chance to live. She's running away from love. He wishes he was never capable of it. She is a broken soul. He is lost. What happens when they meet? What happens when love comes between them? (ON HIATUS)
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

**Hello, my lovelies! ^^**

**Another fan fiction, another story… well, it's actually a crossover, but a fan fiction, nonetheless. I have spent a good couple of hours contemplating if I should continue this story, since I have it planned for so long. And I decided, "Why not?" – It wouldn't cost me anything. (Except for my effort and time, but it's worth it. Writing has always been.)**

**Anyways, this fan fiction – crossover – does not follow the epilogue of DH because I said so. And since the setting of the two books clashes, I've made a couple of changes, namely:**

- **The HP Generation were all born in 1990 (I know that Hermione is older than her friends by almost a year, but in this, she's younger than them) so was Bella;**

- **The Second Wizard War ended on 2007;**

- **Severus and Fred did not die;**

- **James managed to kill Bella before Edward could save her; and**

- **Will not follow the rest of the Twilight's events (after James' attack on Bella).**

**Warning to all of Bella Swan's supporter: I'm not a basher, but I don't like Bella either. Therefore, I have my own reasons for eliminating her from my story. No offense, to her fans, but she's too dependent – or at least, in my opinion.**

**If you don't like it, then don't read it, as simple as that.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own either Harry Potter or Twilight. J.K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer do.**

**In any case… to the story! Read and review! ^^**

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><p>"Hermione?" a voice floats toward her. "Can you hear me?"<p>

"Please, wake up." A voice and also a face, one she was familiar with but could not put her finger on. A voice and a face in her dream, a dream she's not even certain she having: an unsettling dream – a nightmare – in which she was running and all around her were mangled and unmoving bodies and parts of bodies, battle cries and everything in ruins.

The air smelt of blood and burnt flesh. This made her sick and fought hard not to vomit.

Hermione felt tired: her muscles were screaming in pain, her body in exhaustion. She wanted to close her burning eyes, to have her filthy body be cleaned and rested, her bruises and cuts be healed.

But now isn't the right moment. She needed to find her two best friends. Were they safe? Were they okay? Will this war ever end? Will they even make it?

For Hermione, she didn't know. Maybe, nobody would ever know. To be honest, she's afraid that they might not win this war, afraid that this is how her life would end; but she would rather fight from down to her very last breath to save her loved ones than to watch them die in the hands of evil.

She may never knew how, she may never knew if she can. But she would, and she would never lay her armors down. Not now, not tomorrow, not soon. Not ever.

She was so lost in her own thought that she's not aware to where she was heading until she tripped over a rock outcropping from the ground. She landed face first on the ground, staring straightly at Ginny's unseeing eyes. She choked back a sob and swallowed the lump on her throat. "Oh, Ginny."

Slowly, she crawled to her first girl best friend and held her prone frame to her lap. "Why?" By now, salty tears were freely falling down her face. And she just let them go. Ginny, the girl she had grown to love as the sister she never had, was dead.

Harry would be devastated. He would blame himself again. And she couldn't bare seeing him like that. Sirius' death was enough- Harry. Where was he? Is he safe? It had been an hour or two since they lost each other. Where could he have been?

Sniffing, she brushed her tears away carelessly and carefully laid Ginny on the ground, closing the younger witch's lifeless brown eyes as she did.

She stood up and took a long and deep breath. "Goodbye, Gin. I love you, remember that. So does Harry, and Ron, and your family. Rest in peace."

She bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Then she took off, her mind set on finding her best friend. She ran as fast as her tired legs could carry her. Wand in hand, hazel eyes alert.

Behind her, an eerie laugh echoed, sending chills down her spine. An odd twist settled on her stomach. A shout, terrified and helpless, followed, almost making her want to look back. To see who it was. To whom it belonged.

"Harry Potter," a cold voice declared, making her turn to the direction it came from. Voldemort stood there, just in front of the castle's entrance, an unpleasant grin painted in his snake-like face.

"Is dead!"

The said boy laid by the Dark Lord's feet, his messy hair matted with blood, his face dirty, his wand rested on his limp hands and his green eyes void of life.

"No." The tears she shed earlier for Ginny came back. But this time, it was more painful.

Then a pandemonium erupted. There were streams of spells and curses from everywhere, filling the air with dread.

She began to run toward him, though she knew it was a hopeless case. But her mind is set on reaching him. To cradle him against her chest. Her best friend. Her brother in all but blood. "Harry."

Without a warning, a slicing hex grazed her right foot, making her fell on her knees, panting and sweating and weak.

"Ooh, does the little mudblood needed any help? Too bad you don't have any friends left to do so!" the black-haired witch let out a maniacal laugh, an evil glint reflecting in her dark eyes.

Hermione sneered at her, suppressing a wince when she made an attempt to stand up. "Lestrange,"

"Ah, so the mudblood speaks!" she cackled. "It's a shame that would be your last word."

It happened so fast that she could only catch sight of a green light headed for her before darkness lulls her in its arms. Her last thoughts was of her friends.

Everything is silent for a while. So silent it was deafening, so deadly that she could hear the most distant pleas of the helpless, the softest whisper of the wind or a pin drop. She was aware of the soft grass beneath her; it reminded her the smell of home.

She tried remembering what brought her here. But all that she could pull off her mind was the sound of tires slipping off the road, the ear-splitting clatter of metal against metal, the loud shattering of glass, the smell of fire, and the blood that flowed from her forehead to her face.

And then she's falling in a deep, dark hole. She tried calling for help, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She tried reaching for something she could hold unto, but her hands were only met by cold air.

There were no walls, or ceilings, all she knew is that she's tumbling in somewhere dark – an endless black space of nothingness, a great sea of uncertainty.

Is she dead? If so, is this what being dead felt like? Like floating, and drifting, and flying in a tangible darkness. And all you could do is wait for something to happen, though she was without the slightest ideas if there would be so.

But before:

"Hermione," the voice said. It seemed to reach her from across an impossible distance. A continent. An ocean. It seemed to come from the stars. "Hermione…"

Then she knew no more.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**I know it's rather short. But like I told you earlier, I was just merely testing if I'd like to continue this story. So… should I? Tell me what you think! ^^**


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note:**

**I'm back~ **

**This chapter was supposed to be posted by next week or so. But since I'm a sleep deprived teenager who's currently in a sugar high, I just decided to write, proofread and post it! Yaay! ^^**

**Anyways, I would like to say a quick 'thank you' to those who read, reviewed, and added W.i.t.S in their Favorites and Subscription lists. And a special 'thank you' to those who added me in their Favorites and Subscription lists. I cannot mention you all since there were a plenty of you. But you already knew who you are :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except for the plot.**

**P.S. Forgive me for any grammatical errors. English is just my second language.**

**Read and review ^^**

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><p>Pain.<p>

All she could feel and remember was pain: pain that burned every fiber of her body; pain which left her smoldering as if in chaos with each seconds that had passed.

Pain that tarnished her skin, blinded her eyes, deafened her ears. Pain that coursed through her whole being and torn her soul. Pain that she was twice had been acquainted with. The third time being now.

Pain she could associate with only one name:

Bellatrix Lestrange.

The dark-haired witch stood looming over her and Hermione could feel the tip of the older woman's wand pressing on her throat. Lestrange's eyes were burning with determination, her lips curled in a crazed grin.

Lestrange's mouth was moving in a silent scream. And Hermione tried to focus on what she was saying. She really did but her ears and brain wouldn't cooperate. All she could make out was the desperate ringing in her ears which reminded her of a radio going haywire.

Hermione felt tired – so badly she wanted to close her eyes and fell in the arms of the awaiting darkness. And Lestrange's weight on top of her didn't help.

But she didn't. She can't, no matter what and how she tried.

She remembered the same feeling: the nauseating somersaults that settled on her stomach, the taste of bile on her tongue, the coppery smell of blood. Her blood.

She wondered if when this will end – the seemingly endless torture inflicted on her. She wondered if she'd die this way.

She hoped she doesn't.

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><p>She awoke to the cold and haunting voices around her. Voices by the hundreds, by the thousands of the dead. Voices in their scornful whispers, taunting above her, and some of them were screaming. Hermione listened to them with a heavy heart, wishing she could have done something to save them, to help them. She counted off the seconds as the voices grew stronger, louder, and in doing so, she came upon the realization that she was still alive, only that she was surrounded by a blinding darkness.<p>

She sat upright. Who knew where she was or how could she still be alive or why the darkness hadn't dissipated yet. She swore she could feel that she's still floating, though she's now accompanied with voices she doesn't have the slightest ideas to whom they belong to.

Suddenly, the voices stopped, like they were being carried away by the wind. Then there was nothing.

And yet:

**Hermione.**

The sound of her name, whispered on the darkness.

**Hermione, wake up. Come back to us.**

**Come back to us. Open your eyes. We're waiting for you…**

She knew whose voice it was.

"Harry…"

Hermione walked towards it with cautious steps, her footfalls echoing through the dark. Twenty feet away, a stream of light drifts to her, warm and bright. So bright that it almost blinded her. **You are safe, don't worry.**

She holds out a hand, her slender fingers reaching to feel it, wanting to touch it. One step, two steps, three, four, and five…

**Come back to us, Hermione. Come back.**

Leaning forward, her fingers meeting the light, she took a final step, the brightness enveloping her.

**Come back to us.**

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><p>"I don't think she'd be waking up anytime soon," said Harry. "Her doctors couldn't even say when."<p>

"We shouldn't lose hope, Harry." Ginny Weasley sat beside her boyfriend as she gazed forlornly at her best friend who rests in the brink of death in the hospital bed. Hermione looked papery pale, and her breathing was slow and deep, almost labored.

She let out a dejected exhale as she took in the state of her room. Different kinds of machines littered the pallid walls: machines she didn't recognize or even sure if they were of use. One of them sported a long blue tube that was connected on the left corner of her mouth, one which she could vaguely remember the doctor said that supported her breathing; and one with some sort of thin wires that went under her hospital gown.

She was not sure if what the latter was for. But the contraption it was connected to emitted a soft buzzing sound.

It had been two months since she came across that terrible car accident. They say she's fortunate she survived the hard impact; that not everyone can outlive a car accident – a miracle, as what they would call it.

The doctor said that Hermione's life now only depended on herself, that she might die if she wouldn't be waking up soon. "It's a lucky case, if she would. I'm giving you seventy-two hours. If she doesn't wake up soon, then there's nothing that I can do." Dr. Marquez remarked when she examined her condition the other day.

Ginny, however; does not believe in miracles. She never did and never will. But she believes that her best friend, her sister in all but blood, will surpass this: that she'll live through this. "Hermione's a strong girl."

He was silent for a while. Then, "I just can't lose her, Ginny. Not her, not Hermione," he sobbed. Harry and Hermione were undeniably close that you could almost say they were couples. But their friends and family knew that they treat each other as the sibling they never had. "Not when I lost almost everyone…"

The redhead let her own tears fell freely and made to grab of his hand, squeezing it to give him comfort, to let him know he's not alone. "Things are going to get better, Harry. She'll be fine."

How ironic, she thought, nobody knew way back then that a girl can capture their hearts with her own person then break them one day by an unwanted event. "But what if she doesn't wake up?"

She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, and even though he didn't meet her gaze, either he doesn't want to or he can't, Ginny could see the pain and longing that were painted clearly in his face.

"She will, Harry," she retorted. "Our Hermione will. She survived the war, though scathed, but she did. A car accident wouldn't kill her."

Harry's watery gaze landed on her. "That doesn't answer my question, Gin."

She gave him a sad smile. "Somehow, I believe, it does."

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><p>It was the evening of July 21 when Hermione Granger – daughter of Matthew and Stella Granger, one-third of the Golden Trio, Harry Potter's best friend, Brightest Witch of Her Age, War Heroine – awakened to the murmurs around her.<p>

She was wary to open her eyes at first, afraid that if she did, the haunting voices will come back. She still remembered them: Voices by the hundreds, by the thousands of the dead. Voices in their scornful whispers, taunting above her, and some of them were screaming.

But when none came, she slowly opened her burning eyes. Even from her long sleep, she felt much drained.

The first thing she registered on her mind is that she's lying on a slightly soft bed and the warm blanket that was tucked to her small waist. The whiteness of her surrounding that reminded her of her dream made her squint. A mechanical beeping greeted her ears and she felt a light piercing on right forearm. A sticky material was scratching the left corner of her mouth and her chest area felt heavy with a coin-like weight.

Hermione automatically concluded that she was in a hospital. 'Ugh,' she thought. 'I hate hospitals.' She tried to shift but sharp pain punctured her body when she did. Her head was throbbing and there was an annoying buzz that rang out of her ears. 'Why was I in a hospital?'

Her mind sought the possible answers why, but she couldn't even comprehend a single thought.

"Hermione!" was all the warning she got before a blur of red grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her back down. "Don't move! You're not totally healed yet."

Ginny.

Hermione tried to talk, but when she opened her mouth, she found out that she can't even mutter a word. "No, no, no. don't speak."

"Harry, call the doctor. Quick!" a hurried shuffling and scraping of metal against the floor made her wince which did not went unnoticed by Ginny. 'She might have some memories of the accident,' the redhead thought sadly. "It's alright, Hermione. You're safe."

When she attempted to open her mouth, Ginny slapped her cheeks very lightly and held out a pen and notebook to her. "Write what you want to say."

When did she grab those?

Hermione merely shifted her gaze from Ginny to the writing materials in her hands back and forth like the redhead had lost her mind. "What? It's not like that I was permitted to remove that tube in your mouth. You still can't breathe on your own."

Hermione just stared at her sleepily. And blinked. Her mind was fuzzy.

Ginny let out a sigh when the brunette still did not accept the writing materials. "We'll have to wait for Dr. Marquez, then."

As if on cue, the door opened with a small creak and Harry entered her room followed by a tall woman who must be in her late twenties. She wore a white crisp lab gown over her blue blouse and black pencil skirt and a stethoscope was hooked neatly on her neck. Her blonde hair was tied back in a neat bun and she walked toward Hermione with a motherly gleam on her features, a warm and reassuring smile painted on her pink lips.

"Good to see you awake, Miss Granger. I'm Ruby Marquez, your doctor."

Hermione gave the woman a small nod which only made her headache worse. 'What's wrong with my head?'

"You gave us a scare, Miss Granger, when you were admitted here, I would say. You won't almost respond with your medication," Dr. Marquez pulled the stethoscope from her neck and slipped the chest piece over Hermione's hospital gown to her heart. Hermione shuddered faintly under the cool touch of the instrument.

"But you were lucky you weren't driving the car."

Car? What car?

Hermione hated being clueless. And now, she was under that state.

The clinician spared a glance at the ECG machine on the bed's left side. "Your heart beat is still low. But it has improved from the last time."

"What does that mean, doctor?" asked a worried Harry, who now stood beside Ginny, his hands wrapped around the redhead's waist. Ginny also waited for the healer's answer with equally concerned look on her face. "I don't think you've mentioned it before."

Turning to the boy, Dr. Marquez answered, "Miss Granger had fractured some of her upper ribs which almost snapped a vein on her heart. She's actually lucky that it did not. And she'll be fine, Mr. Potter. She has to stay here for two more weeks for further observation, though."

The bespectacled boy nodded in understanding, though the lines of anxiousness didn't leave his forehead.

The woman averted her gaze back to her patient, the smile still graced her features. "For the meantime, I cannot yet remove your stitches and replace your endotracheal tube with a cannula. So, you can't talk yet."

'Great,' Hermione thought. She can't move her body without feeling a surge of pain shot her, blood was pumping on her head and now she can't talk! Hermione wanted to groan in frustration. But for now, she needed to close her eyes. 'Merlin, there's so much light.'

"I would suggest-"

The doctor's voice faded in the background as her vision swam in messy circles. The pounding on her head grew stronger and stronger; the ringing in her ears louder and louder that it almost drowned her. And then she was falling…

"Hermione?"

"Great, she's asleep again."

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><p>Six days had transpired before Hermione had her endotracheal tube replaced with a nasal cannula and the stitches on her head removed. She was glad that they were gone now, but it vexed her that she still had to stay for eight more days before she could be discharged.<p>

Fortunately for her, the Weasley family – apart from Percy and Ron – Harry, Neville and Luna were there to keep her company. It surprised her that the usual gaiety in Fred and George's nature was absent. And it even surprised her more when Molly stated that the pranks they pull to whoever they want had ceased when the twins had heard about her.

Molly wouldn't stop asking how she was feeling or what did she want to eat. But it reminded her of the same warm feeling in her heart whenever she visits the Burrow; it reminded her of those times when she was still a child and she and her grandmother would bake cookies; the same feeling she felt when she was with her best friends. It reminded her of memories she wanted to keep as only memories. Memories she wasn't supposed to relive.

For that, though, she was quite thankful. And she doesn't know why.

While there, Molly and Harry had provided her the events of the past two months from the moment she met the accident to the day she opened her eyes. She had asked them about her parents, but whenever she does, Molly would change the topic and Harry would make up an excuse. Even her doctor wouldn't say a thing. And it frustrated her.

Is it wrong to ask about them?

Hermione knew at that moment that there was something they were not telling her. Something of vital importance. And their silence about it sent a bad feeling on her stomach, however; it didn't stop her from being grateful for the comfort their company had gave her.

Today, however, Harry was the only one who was able to pay her a visit since the Weasleys were busy helping rebuild Hogwarts. Now, he sat on the edge of her bed, reading Quidditch through Ages. Hermione, herself, sat with her back leaned against her pillows, mutely watching him look through his book.

Hermione sighed.

Two months. It had been so long. So long that she almost could not recount the events that has transpired before the accident. At least, she found her parents and restored their memories – that, she was very sure of. At first, they've been very furious towards her actions. Especially her mother, Stella Granger, who delivered an impromptu scolding at her whilst her father just sat calmly and watched the scene unfold in front of his eyes.

She remembered the same furious look on his face but an amused glitter on his blue eyes betrayed it. It was an almost perfect family week then: consisting a three-day trip on France and a nice getaway in one of the Asian beaches, Boracay - a beautiful beach resort, with all the white-sand and clear blue water, located in the Philippines.

It never occurred to her, though, that it would end as quickly as it began.

Eyes closed, her mind reeled back to that fateful night. She remembered the cheerful laughter reverberating inside the car; her father singing along to The Smiths' Asleep; her mother asking her if she would want to study in a 'normal' school; the heavy pounding of the rain on the roof of the car; the flash of white blinding light.

She was barely aware of the sound of tires slipping off the road, the ear-splitting clatter of metal against metal, the loud shattering of glass, the smell of fire, and the blood that flowed from her forehead to her face. She marveled if she even had the time to answer her mother's question.

She could have sworn she saw her life flashed before her eyes then. And she wondered, for the second time, why was she still alive.

Hermione pushed the unwanted thoughts off her mind. She had yet to ask Harry about her parents, again. Maybe, just maybe, she could get her to talk about their condition.

"My parents…"

Harry jumped at his seat. He was so absorbed in his book that her faint voice had him startled.

"Harry, how about my parents?" she asked her best friend, her voice laced with the same concern it had six days ago. "Are they alright? Where are they? Harry?"

"Hermione…" he didn't know how to break it to her and he suddenly wished that Ginny was with him, or maybe even Mrs. Weasley. Or maybe, he could find another excuse to avoid answering his best friend's condition.

He was confident when he asked Dr. Marquez not to break it to Hermione about her parents' predicament which the woman agreed. The doctor even said that he – they – were free to tell her everything when they're ready. Or when she's ready.

He doesn't have the slightest ideas if now was the right moment, or if he's ready to tell her everything, or if she's ready to hear them. But Hermione deserved to know the truth, right?

"What? Please, Harry, tell me they're okay, they're fine."

His silence gave Hermione discomfort. Like she was watching a movie where the protagonist dies unexpectedly, which was very disheartening. But her parents were fine. They are, aren't they?

He took a deep breath then respired it off his mouth. It was now or never. Book laid forgotten on his side, he carefully said, "Hermione, your parents… they didn't make it."

Harry knew it was very straightforward of him. But beating around the bush would only make it worse.

'They didn't make it,' his words echoed through her mind. A lump formed in her throat as tears blurred her vision. "No."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione." he said softly. "I know I should've told you sooner but, I don't know how to and… I'm sorry."

"No, no, no," she repeated the same phrase over and over in her mind as if to convince herself. "They can't be. They can't be dead, Harry."

"Ssshh… Hermione. It's okay. It's going to be okay." Harry pulled her into a hug, his right hand drawing soothing circles on her back.

The young witch hugged him for her dear life, burying her face on the curve of his neck as sobs wrecked her frail figure. Her tears drenched Harry's shirt, but he did not mind, not at all.

"You're fine, Mia," he consoled. "You'll be fine."

"But it's hard," came her muffled response. "Why did it has to be them? Why, Harry? Why not just me? I should've died with them, Harry! I was there, too, remember? I should've just died!"

Harry held her in an arm's length, his green eyes pierced into her hazel ones. "Don't say that, Hermione Jean Granger. There's a reason that you're safe, that you're alive and they were not."

"It's their time, Hermione. I know it hurts a lot, I know how it feels, but you need to let go. You can't live forever living like this. You know they would say the same if they were alive…"

Hermione only shook her head, refusing to believe his words. "No, no, no."

"It's not yet your time to die, Hermione. You still have a lot to learn and live for. Your parents may be gone in this world, but they will forever stay in your heart. Remember that, okay?"

Hermione just stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open. "Since when did you become so smart?"

Harry cracked a smile. "Since you became my best friend, little sis."

She scrunched her nose at that. "I'm not little."

"I know," he said, the smile never leaving his face. "But promise me, Mia, you'll move on. Just let go of the pain and you'll be fine."

"I can't promise that, but…" she trailed off. She averted her gaze to the window where she could see the sun sparkling between the broken clouds. The sun's rays seeped through the window that retold her a promise of tomorrow.

A promise that seemed to convey her a new start, a fresh beginning.

She looked back at him with a soft smile on her lips and nodded her head yes, eyes as alight as the stars in the night sky. "Yes, I will."

That was then Harry decided that he will do anything just to keep that fire burning bright. And nothing will stop him from doing so.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**I cried writing the last part of this chapter. I cried because I know how it felt to lose someone you love – someone who has been a part of your life. They say that it hurts the most when you loses your mother, but I'm so much closer to my father that it destroyed me when he died. I was only thirteen at that moment.**

**Anyways, I love reviews ^^ (hint, hint).**


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